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If someone had asked Dean a week ago what he thought he'd be doing on Tuesday night, he might've said he’d be heading to a bar if he felt up to it, or getting a pie and catching up on sleep if he didn't, assuming he wasn't on a hunt. One thing he would not have suggested was babysitting some weird…rat thing that just so happened to be his angelic best friend, complete with grumpy pout and squinty eyes—the result of their latest hunt that disrupted what could've been a nice, normal, lazy Tuesday, because the universe hates him.
Naturally, this annoying turn of events is the result of another freakin' witch of the week, because it seems like anyone with a spellbook and a lack of general common sense has set out to make Dean Winchester's life as miserable as possible. This witch was just an idiot and not overly malicious, so they actually let him go with a series of stern warnings and thinly-veiled threats to not try his hand at playing Harry Potter again, or else. Between the threats and snatching up any and all magical books and ingredients he and Sam could find, Dean's pretty confident this guy won't be stupid with magic twice.
A lot of good that does them now, though, Dean thinks angrily as he runs a hand through the thick fluff of the animal in his lap, earning him a blue-eyed side eye and a squint, but Cas doesn't outright reject the touch, so…progress.
When the bumbling idiot of a witch first saw them and threw stuff at their heads, Dean wasn't all that alarmed. Turns out the guy had stumbled across some actual cursed objects—because again, the universe never wants Dean to enjoy a slice of pie and a nap—and one of the objects just so happened to be a collar that…turns people into little rabbits, apparently?
It's weirdly inconspicuous, too. Just a little blue collar, complete with a tiny bell that jingles every time Cas ruffles his dense fur with a huff or uses a leg to scratch behind one of his ears. The bell has sat still since Dean took up the latter job for him at least, running a hand down Cas' newly-furry back and taking the occasional detour to scratch between his big ears or under his chin. Cas has been making little chittery noises and progressively pressing his head further into Dean's lap to become a proper puddle, so he must like it, to some degree.
"Okay, well, he's not a chinchilla," Sam starts from where he has his laptop propped open on the motel's little table, his huge forehead creased into itself three times over like a wi-fi signal. "I did some digging and found that he's…apparently something called a viscacha?"
"A what?" Dean interrupts, his hand pausing on Cas' back, earning a little huffy noise and another grumpy pout that makes Dean roll his eyes and move his hand to Cas' chin. "Geez, clingy."
That comment earns him another squint that's way more intense than Dean would've thought possible for a glorified grumpy rabbit. Okay, wow. Awfully touchy for a guy who's the size of a really fat squirrel.
"They're related to chinchillas," Sam explains, as if Dean's a walking encyclopedia on those things either. "Anyway, I can't find any lore about a magic collar that turns people into them, or any way to, you know, remove it."
"Great," Dean sighs, even though he figured as much.
They tried every weapon they have on the thing, just trying to saw through the flimsy nylon and polyester with just about every bladed weapon they have, but the collar is surprisingly durable thanks to the magic embedded within it. They had even attempted to burn the collar with a lighter, though the fire had freaked Cas out a bit, and it's not exactly easy to hold a small, wiggling animal in apparent fear of its life, Sam. Prey animals are programmed to escape from danger, after all, and Dean would do anything not to see the wide-eyed fear in Cas' beady little eyes again if he can help it.
So yeah, it seems like they're stuck with the collar for the time being, until they can figure out a way to remove it. Obviously, the witch stupidly bought the collar at an auction and didn't have a clue what to do with it either, so that was a bust. If they get desperate enough, they could probably call Rowena, but Dean doesn't feel like giving her another dangerous grimoire in exchange for her services—or letting her see Cas in such a vulnerable state.
Granted, he doesn't think she'd actually do anything to Cas like this, beyond coo over him and pinch at his adorably fluffy cheeks or pet his thick fur. But even the thought of her doing that much makes Dean's stomach twist. No one should go around touching Cas if he doesn't want it; so far, Dean's the only one who's been allowed to pick the viscacha up or pet him, a thought that fills him with more pride than it should.
Don't get him wrong, he knows that Sam and Cas are friends now and he's glad for it, but he can't deny that he likes being Cas' go-to for more physical comfort and handling during a time of vulnerability. Even like this, they still have something of a…'profound bond' or whatever, it seems.
"It won't just go over his head, will it?" Sam asks thoughtfully after a moment. "I know the buckle is stuck, but there's more than one way to take off a collar."
"What, and the knives were just for fun?"
Sam puts his hands up defensively and looks back at his laptop. "I'm just saying it's worth a shot, Dean."
"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbles, looking into Cas' eyes, half-closed in apparent contentment. Or maybe the guy's just getting ready to take a little nap. Right in Dean's lap. It'd be a shame to disturb him when he looks so comfy…
"Do you need help holding him?" Sam asks when Dean does nothing, and Dean's head snaps over to his brother stupidly, making Sam roll his eyes. "Cas, I mean. Do you need me to hold him while you try to get the collar off?"
Dean shakes his head, looking down at the creature in his lap, and swallows. He puts one hand firmly on Cas' back while the other inches towards the collar. "N-no, I got it, I think. How hard could it be?"
And those are some famous last words if he ever said them, because the second he gives the collar a firm tug up towards Cas' head, the newly-turned viscacha shoots out of his lap with a squeak, jumping to the floor and scurrying off under the bed somewhere.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean says, scrambling to stand and find the animal as Sam huffs out a laugh behind him. "Shut up!"
"I didn't even say anything!"
"You were thinking it," Dean fires back, reaching a hand under the bed. Just as his fingertips brush against that velvet-soft fluff, Cas shoots out past him and races towards the bathroom, making Dean swear again. Dude is fast for a weird rabbit thing. "Damnit, Cas, get back here!"
Naturally, Dean spends the next fifteen minutes chasing Cas around the motel room, banging his head on half a dozen objects and stubbing his toes on another dozen, as well as accumulating a fair amount of little scratches and tiny bite marks whenever his sudden movements scare Cas, proving that his friend's mind isn't all there in this form. Still, Dean's eventually able to calm him down enough to grab him firmly under the fluffy little arms and return to the bed.
Just so his efforts aren't a complete waste, he has Sam grab a towel to drape over Cas' body to get a firmer hold before having Sam try to pull the collar up over Cas' head. Of course, it doesn't end up working anyway, so he's all scraped up for nothing. Great. What a way to spend a Tuesday.
"I don't think there's anything more we can do here," Sam eventually sighs, running a hand through his overgrown hair. "Why don't we head back to the Bunker to do some research? The Men of Letters have a lot of old books on cursed objects—maybe they have something on cursed collars?"
"It's worth a shot," Dean concedes, standing up with Cas firmly in his arms, a hand resting on his back. "Keys are in my right pocket."
That gets Sam to pause from where he's starting to pile clothes and odd weapons into a duffel bag. "You don't want to drive?"
"Somebody's gotta keep this little angel from leaping out the window every time a car lays on the horn," Dean replies gruffly, swallowing down the lump in his throat.
Sam nods along and accepts his explanation and continues the packing for both of them while Dean tries not to freak out at his own words. Visions of all the ways that Cas—tiny, vulnerable, grumpy, sleepy-looking Cas—could get lost or hurt in this form flashing in his mind. No, there's no way he's letting Cas out of his sight, not after this. He can't bear to lose his best friend like that, not now, not ever.
He shifts his hold to grab Cas under the arms, turning the viscacha to face him. "Don't you worry, Cas. I won't let anything happen to you," he promises gravely once Sam is preoccupied with loading things into the car from outside the room. "I promise."
Cas, of course, has no idea what he's saying. Ignorant of his words or intentions, Cas just squirms closer to lick one of the cuts on Dean's cheek he had accidentally created earlier, like a silent apology, and Dean holds him a little tighter, a little closer, promising to himself never to let Cas go again.
Back at the bunker, things aren't much better as far as Dean's building paranoia goes. As soon as he goes down the steps from the garage, he's suddenly hit over the head with the reminder of just how many weapons and cursed objects and freakin' potentially harmful mold fills the bunker, any of which could easily take out something as small and vulnerable as Cas is now. So naturally, making a bed for Cas out of a laundry basket stuffed with his own flannels and locking Cas in his room is the only logical course of action here.
Cas is sleepy enough not to mind it anyway, even if he does mysteriously end up in Dean's bed somehow by the time Dean wakes up to a warm weight on his chest, right over his heart. Watching over him even in this state, it seems. What a dork.
But then, as a few days pass with no answers to Cas’ current predicament cropping up, Cas starts to get antsy. A few times, he manages to escape his laundry basket, and Dean has to frantically hunt through the bunker until he can find him. He also starts getting more fidgety when Dean tries to hold him, even sometimes trying to outright escape.
“Maybe he needs some air,” Sam suggests after watching Dean fight to keep Cas from skeddaling away again. “Maybe if you took him outside, he’d—”
“Outside?” Dean splutters, almost forgetting Cas as he stares at his brother incredulously. Fortunately, Cas decides, after Dean loosens his grip, that he’s fine chilling on his lap. He’s so soft and precious like this, and already Dean is imagining everything that could happen to him out of the safety of the bunker. “No fucking way, Sam! He’d probably run away, and then we’d never find him again, or he gets killed by something, or—”
“Then keep an eye on him!” Sam throws his arms up, finally revealing his festering frustration. “And then I can work out how to fix this! I’m so close, I just need—”
“Okay, man, sorry Cas is such an inconvenience,” Dean snaps, before standing and striding away, taking Cas with him.
Or, at least, he tries to, but Cas somehow slips his grip and runs, dashing away with surprising agility for a kind of chubby rabbit-ish creature.
“Fuck! Cas, wait!” Dean calls, almost tripping over his own feet as he starts running in pursuit. Behind him, he hears Sam sigh.
An hour of searching, only to find Cas in the garage, scratching at a door, finally convinces Dean to give Sam’s idea a try. With a few caveats.
“Don’t look at me like that, okay, buddy?” Dean says as he securely ties a rope around the cursed collar. “This is for your own good. If you make another Great Escape outside, and I can’t find you…” Dean trails off, clenching his jaw at the idea of Cas just vanishing forever, especially in this small, vulnerable form. “It would be bad, yeah?” he finally says, looking at Cas’ furred face to try to parse out any sign that he’s been understood.
But there’s no nod, no noise that could be a ‘yes’. Cas just continues to fix him with the grumpy look that these things seem to have stuck on their faces. Dean tries not to be discouraged—at least Cas isn’t squirming away anymore. That’s a positive, at least.
Dean carries Cas up the stairs to the main door, keeping the make-shift leash wound around one hand in case Cas makes yet another run for it. For now, at least, Cas seems content to snuggle against Dean’s chest, but Dean keeps imagining him scampering away as soon as they’re outside.
When they reach the door, Dean allows himself some time to prepare.
“Alright, buddy,” he says, looking down at Cas. “Please, please don’t run away from me. Please.”
Slowly, Cas blinks. Dean prays that it’s some sign that they’ve come to an understanding. He tightens his grip around Cas’ body, and then pushes the door open.
Dean’s breath is caught in his throat, his heart thudding as he continues to imagine, again and again, Cas leaping away and disappearing. But, miraculously, Cas stays. Still, Dean doesn’t dare let him go as he ventures outside, one cautious step after another. He almost stumbles when he feels Cas shift in his arms, but when he looks down, Cas is just turning his head upwards, looking towards the sunlight, his fluffy face cast in a gentle glow. Dean almost chokes up at the sight, the turbulence of the past few days catching up with him as he looks down at his bespelled best friend.
“You really don’t like being cooped up,” he says.
Cas gives no sign of hearing or understanding Dean. There’s so much serenity in those small eyes as he stares at the sky. Dean watches Cas drink in the sunlight, unable to speak again with the thick wad of emotion clogging his throat. He only feels something within him loosening when Cas finally looks at him again, eyes filled with a sense of contentment that somehow spreads to Dean, washing over him in a soothing cascade. For a few seconds, he can imagine his Cas, the human-shaped one, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder and smiling softly while fixing him with a blue, wide-eyed stare.
Dean closes his eyes, centering himself around that image. When he feels ready, he opens his eyes and smiles tentatively at Cas. In response, Cas tilts his head, and sudden laughter bursts from Dean. Some things never change.
“Okay, Cas.” Dean crouches and loosens his grip, although he keeps the leash tightly wound in one hand. “Be free, buddy.”
Somewhat surprisingly, Cas doesn’t bolt. He looks up at Dean, giving him a long, slow blink before hopping the short distance to the ground with a surprising amount of grace for a freaky, over-fluffed rodent. Dean grips the leash with both hands, but Cas stays where he landed, his whiskers twitching as he looks around slowly, kind of like a meerkat except way more grumpy.
Dean keeps a close eye on Cas and a firm grip on the leash but, gradually, he begins to relax. Cas mostly sits around, basking in the sun, or snuffles around in the grass. Hours pass, and Dean feels… almost happy, for the first time since this fiasco began. Cas seems better as well, less stressed than he’d been when he was stuck inside.
“Maybe we should do this some other time,” Dean says. Cas’ ears twitch, but otherwise he stays curled up on the ground, looking like he’s mid-nap. Dean doesn’t know if he’s listening, or if he understands, but maybe that’s a good thing. “Just… be out here, y’know? You seem to like it. Is that an angel thing, lovin’ all of god’s creatures?” He pauses, looks at Cas, and then laughs softly. “Nah, probably not. More just a you thing, right?”
Cas’ eyes are open now, but he doesn’t look very focused as he chews on a blade of grass, his little paws curled cutely into his body. Between Dean and Cas, the leash trails across the ground. Dean’s eyes follow the curled coils, tracing the physical link it provides between him and Cas.
“You could probably do with one of these when you’re a dude again,” he muses, smirking a little at the image of Cas collared as a human (or, at least, as a human-shaped angel). “It’d keep you from running away from me all the time. It would be nice if you could stay with me, just for once.” Dean trails off when Cas looks up. Sleepy blue eyes bore into him with surprising intensity, freezing him in place.
Dean hardly dares to even breathe as Cas stands and hops over, slow and purposeful. Cas stops right beside Dean’s thigh and stares up, directly into Dean’s eyes. Dean’s not sure what he’s in for—he doesn’t know if Cas understood him, and is pissed at Dean for wanting to control him, or if Cas’ animal brain is starting to see Dean as some kind of threat. Either way, he expects some kind of attack.
He does not anticipate Cas jumping up onto Dean’s lap and placing his paws on Dean’s chest. Dean stays frozen as Cas begins nuzzling him before snuggling up in his lap, his fluffy little face pressed against the hand that Dean is clutching the leash in. Long whiskers scratch against Dean’s wrist as Cas starts snoozing again, perfectly relaxed in Dean’s lap.
“Cas?” Dean breathes his name softly, the hand not occupied with the leash hovering. “Uh, buddy?”
Cas pays him no mind. He might even be fast asleep again. Slowly, Dean lowers his hand until it rests on Cas’ back. He’s become pretty familiar with the coarse texture of the fur along his back, and he thinks Cas likes being petted, at least by Dean. He strokes Cas gently, a small smile gracing his lips as he looks down at his friend, safe in Dean’s lap.
The sun is starting to dim, and Dean and Cas are still cuddled together when Dean’s phone buzzes and Sam’s name lights up on-screen. Cas startles at the sudden noise, but Dean soothes him with a hand against his back and answers.
“Sammy?”
“I’ve found it!” Sam says. Dean can tell that his brother is grinning triumphantly, full of that wonderful high that solving a tricky case can bring. “I can turn Cas back!”
“Oh…” Dean fiddles with the leash and glances down at the angel. “That’s… That’s really great, Sam. We’ll be down in a sec.”
“Great,” Sam says. “I’ve got to grab a few things, but meet me in the library, okay?”
“Got it,” Dean says. Sam hangs up, and Dean puts his phone back into his pocket. “You get any of that, buddy?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Cas. He doesn’t even get a blink in response; Cas just stares at Dean blankly. “Sam’s got a way to make you human again. Good, right?”
Still, Cas gives no indication that he’s picking up anything Dean’s trying to tell him. Dean sighs and nudges Cas off his lap so he can stand, earning himself a displeased trill from Cas.
“We better head inside, get you de-rodent-ified,” Dean says. He takes a few steps towards the bunker before glancing back to see that Cas hasn’t moved. “Buddy? What are you doing?” Dean gives the leash a light tug and still, Cas refuses to budge. “Seriously? C’mon, Cas. Don’t you wanna go back to normal? Or do you want to be stuck as a fat squirrel forever?”
Cas makes a low sound, almost like a growl except it’s pretty much completely unthreatening. Dean rolls his eyes and walks back so he can scoop Cas into his arms, holding him securely as they go back to the bunker.
“You’re still a stubborn son of a bitch,” Dean says. “Guess that kind of thing defies form, huh?”
Dean makes it to the library with Cas just as Sam is arriving with stuff they must need for the spell. Sam sets everything up while Dean keeps ahold of Cas—they’re so close to being done with this bullshit curse, it would suck to have to delay everything if Cas runs off.
“Right,” Sam says as he finishes drawing a round chalk symbol on the floor. He points at it as he looks over to address Dean. “D’you think Cas will sit in the circle while I do the ritual?”
“Uh…” Dean looks down at where Cas is nestled against his chest. He looks pretty peaceful at the moment, but Dean’s seen him go from almost-napping to bolting away at the drop of a hat. “Maybe? I guess we’ll just have to try.”
Sam sighs. “I suppose,” he says, sounding resigned. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
Dean nods, walks past Sam to the circle on the floor, and crouches down, still holding Cas tight. “Okay, buddy, time to zap you back into a real boy,” he says, keeping his voice low as he talks to Cas. “We just need you to keep still for like, a minute, okay?”
“I’m not sure I can read the whole spell in—” Sam starts.
“Try,” Dean shoots back, glancing up to glare at his brother before focusing on Cas again. “Just a minute, alright? Okay, here…” Dean lowers Cas gently, trying not to disturb him too much. Cas goes willingly enough, his nose twitching cutely as he’s placed in the chalk circle.
The leash is still attached to the collar, and Dean holds on to it as he takes a small step back and nods to Sam to begin.
Sam does manage to read through the spell pretty fast and, after igniting some stuff he’d placed in a bowl on the table, Dean watches as the spell takes effect.
The transformation is pretty much instantaneous. One second, Dean’s keeping a close eye on a freaky little rat thing, and then the leash in his hand drops as the collar it was attached to disappears and, right where rodent-Cas was crouched, human-Cas sprawls across the floor. He’s clothed in his normal attire that he was wearing when the spell hit, and his hair is a complete mess, even more so than usual. He looks kind of unsteady, and has to reach out and place a hand on the floor for balance, his eyes doing a confused scan of his surroundings.
Dean is quick to fall to the floor beside Cas and grab his shoulders in an attempt to ground him. “Whoa, hey, buddy, that you?” he asks.
Cas’ eyes snap to Dean’s, and some clarity seems to enter them. “Dean,” Cas says, and goddamn, Dean has seriously missed hearing his name from those lips. “You’re here.”
“Uh-huh, of course. Don’t you remember?”
Cas tilts his head. “I was… cursed?”
“Yup. You remember that witch? Well, he got you with a cursed collar, it turned you into a visca-whatcha—”
“A viscacha,” Sam corrects.
“Yeah, that,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. Cas’ lips twitch in a slight smile. “Anyway, you were stuck like that for a few days. We weren’t sure how much you were really getting while you were like that.”
“Bits and pieces,” Cas says. “I think I had… flashes of awareness, at times.” His eyes are completely focused on Dean, and there’s a slight furrow in his brow. “You looked after me.”
“Uhh…” Dean can feel himself blushing, and another time he’d probably try to look away and hide, but he’s missed Cas’ face too much to take his eyes off it for even a moment. “Yeah, of course, pal. Couldn’t have you running away and getting yourself hurt, right?”
Cas nods slowly. “Yes. I don’t want to leave you, Dean.”
Dean opens his mouth, but no words escape. He seals his lips and then tries again. “Oh, you remember… Look, I didn’t really mean…”
“That you want me to stay?” Cas asks. “Oh, I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood—”
“No, no, I do!” Dean rushes to say. “I mean, if you want to stay. Obviously, I’d never stop you from leaving…”
“I’d let you,” Cas says. That shocks Dean into another temporary silence. “I didn’t know,” Cas continues, “that it upsets you when I leave.”
“What?” Dean nearly laughs at the stupid absurdity. “Cas, of course I don’t like it when you leave me in the dust. You really thought I didn’t care?”
Cas frowns and looks away. “I’m sorry. If I’d known…”
“You’d stay?” Dean asks. “You want to stay?”
The furrow returns to Cas’ brow and he squints as he peers at Dean again. “Of course, Dean,” he says. “If you want me here, I want to be here with you.”
Dean stares at Cas, hardly daring to believe what he’s just heard. And then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face, wide and giddy. It’s that sense of sudden euphoria that spurs him forward, pressing his lips to Cas’. He feels Cas exhale in surprise, his muscles tensing where Dean’s touching him, but before Dean can back out, Cas’ hand finds Dean’s face and then he’s kissing back, his soft lips moving against Dean’s.
It’s perfect, and awesome, and Dean has never been happier as he slots his body against Cas’, fitting himself in between Cas’ legs to get closer, to intertwine himself completely. If he’d known that all it would take for this to happen was one utterly ridiculous curse…
“Okay, I think I’m gonna go,” Sam says, shuffling backwards awkwardly towards the door. Dean doesn’t even bother to detach himself from Cas as he hears his brother make a run for it.
It’s a while before he and Cas finally break apart, and it’s mainly spurred by Dean’s need to breathe. Cas watches as Dean pants, his eyes dark.
“Did you mean it,” he says slowly, just as Dean is beginning to get his breath back, “when you said you wanted to get me a collar to wear while I’m human?”
Cas, the asshole, laughs as Dean descends into a sudden coughing fit.
